The Rocks of Bahn
by Beverly McIntyre
Summary: An Elseworld featuring homosexual space pirates. Stop looking at me that way!


Disclaimer: Almost all characters contained within the tale belong to Marvel. I am using them without permission but at no profit whatsoever. Dakota is mine. I have deigned to give myself permission to write him. How generous of me. ;} He's making no profit anyway, so let's derail that thought before it gets too far along the tracks.

Rating: PG-13 for language and adult situations 

**_Warning:_** A romantic dipiction, mooky even, of a m/m relations ship. If you don't like homosexual themes, _read no further_. 

Author's Note: Hello. This is all KJ's fault. I shall never spam something in front of her again. I get stuck writing mook. ;} Ahem. Anyway, this pairing was not my idea. I just got elected to write it. This is alo so far out of Broken Palisades continuity it's funny. About as funny as being smacked by a wily Uber-trout for asking when this pairing is going to happen in Climb That Mountain High or something. ;p 

Feedback: will slowly but eventually be answered at bkittle@creighton.edu 

Dedication: For my cousin Jeff. Proof that I can't forget him and miss him a whole hell of a lot. 

* * *

The Rocks of Bahn  
By: Beverly McIntyre

Come all ye loyal heroes  
Wherever that ye be  
An don't hire with any master  
'Til ye know what your work will be 

For you must rise up early  
From the clear daylight of dawn  
And I know that ye'll ne'er be able  
To plow the Rocks of Bahn  
~_Rocks of Bahn_

The galactic tradewinds whipped Captain Longshot's blond mane into his grinning face. Blond hair covered carefree blue eyes and smiling lips. The windblown man didn't appear to mind at all. His grin never wavered, and his hands never moved to brush the hair out of his face. He leaned into the wind as he slowly turned the wheel of the helm. The _Nocenti_ turned slightly in the interstellar channel, racing for the fifth star on the right. 

If there had been actual water for the ship to sail through, the _Nocenti_ would have ridden low; its hulls filled with plunder. However, as Longshot was steering his ship through the twisted never of space, the ship simply sailed forward. 

His booted feet were braced at shoulders' width apart, appearing immobile beneath the violently flapping pant legs. His white-knuckled grip on the wheel betrayed the appearance of ease with which he seemed to be taking the ride. The strong winds threatened to tear his light-boned body from the spot. The galactic tradewinds were the strongest of the solar winds that traveled between stars; many a pleasure cruising lady had lost her beautiful hat to strong gusts. Though he weighed considerably more than the latest in women's headwear, the winds were still trying to snatch him away from the ship. He could end up floating right out of the environmental bubble again, into the deadly galactic sea. Longshot wasn't worried. He'd survived it once; he'd survive it again. However, it was a glorious day to be sailing, and the captain did not want to miss it. 

The plunder held two decks below his feet made the day even sweeter. Longshot and his crew had caught sight of a small fleet of King Mojo's merchant ships. Wary of a trap, the _Nocenti_ had flown merchant colors itself. When no sign of any of Mojo's galleons were found in nearby space, the crew raised the ship's true colors and advanced on the fleet. The bulky, lightly armed vessels were no match for the smaller, heavily armed _Nocenti_. The crew had filled the hold with supplies and gold-filled chests before leaving the fleet rudderlessly adrift. 

Longshot glanced over his shoulder at his first mate, Quark. The ram-headed man leaned dourly against the railing behind his captain. His arms were crossed over his chest in the biggest form of pouting Longshot had seen from his first mate in a long while. Most of the crew thought the first mate was just trying to look gruff, but Longshot knew better. Quark was pouting. He was pouting because he didn't get the chance to board any of the other ships. Longshot had vaulted over to lead the boarding parties before Quark had even got a chance. The ram-headed man was also not smiling, which wasn't unusual. Longshot could never recall a time when Quark smiled; the captain was convinced the Maker forgot to put a sense of humor in Quark's make-up. 

"Cheer up, Mr. Quark!" Longshot had to shout. He was talking into the wind. "Have you ever seen a day as wonderful as this?" 

Quark snorted, and rather loudly if the wind carried it well. "I've seen better. Especially when we're not weighted down like a bloated hog!" 

The blond captain laughed. "You worry too much, my friend! If Mojo had any warships in the area we would have seen them already! As is, we have a day's lead on any pursuers." 

"Don't think the bloated bag won't hunt you down. You're number one on his execution list. He wants your head on a pike." 

"As long as I'm on the top, the people below me are safer!" 

Quark shoved off the railing and came forward to stand beside his captain. He shook his head at the genuine naivete of the man in control of the ship. "He'll just get rid of them until you are the only one on his list. He's already gotten number two on his list." 

Longshot frowned, not wanting to be reminded of the loss. His eyes stung slightly; he focused ahead to the ship's destination. The ache in both his hearts was almost unbearable. Two years was a painfully long time to hold onto the smallest of hope. Quark remained silent until his captain piped back up with a renewed sense of bravado that rang slightly false. "Then we should recruit those people lower on the list. Let them join my crew to fight back." 

"Why would they want to join?" 

"I'm number one. It has to mean something," Longshot smiled again. His eyes didn't quite reflect the mirth. 

"Yeah. It means they'll sell you out to save their own necks." 

"Nah. Look at my crew, Quark. Some of the most ruthless ruffians and cutthroats in any galaxy. Most captains wouldn't dare have these men on their crews. I took them in, shaped them up, and they're all loyal to me." 

Quark nodded. The captain had a point. However he had done it, Longshot had one of the most loyal crews ever to ply the spaceways. "That still isn't going to stop Mojo from hunting you down." 

"He has yet to catch me." 

"Luck runs out." 

"I'll make more. Stop worrying so much, Quark." 

"You don't worry enough, Captain." 

"Quark, there's no-" 

"_CAPTAIN_," the watchman in the crow's nest called out. 

"What is it, Kragar?" Longshot shouted back. 

"Ship approaching from the port bow!" Kragar pointed at a speck in the distance. 

"What colors are they flying?" 

Longshot waited as Kragar put his eye back to the small telescope. 

"Skull 'n bones, sir! Pirates coming our way!" 

Quark and Longshot exchanged worried glances. The captain stepped away from the helm as his first mate stepped up to take control. Anyone who openly flew the skull and bones was either very, very foolish or very deadly. 

"Any other colors?" Longshot called out. "Can you tell whose skull and bones?" 

Kragar squinted into the eyepiece. He straightened up and blinked and then looked again. Disbelief tinged his words. "No other colors! Four bones crossed behind a skull, sir! It's . . . uh, it's _our_ own skull and bones, sir!" 

Longshot looked bewildered. The only other person who would fly those colors was dead. Killed by Mojo's war fleet in the Densetsu Asteroid Belt. Longshot shoved the searing pain across his heart back into the pit of his stomach. He didn't have time to consider why someone would fly his lover's colors. Whoever was flying those colors was a dead man. "Quark, head for that ship! All hands to battle posts! Raise our true colors, boys! Let's put the fear of luck in 'i! Kragar, how fast are they approaching?" 

"Very fast, sir! They're not weighted down like we are!" 

"First deck, prepare warning volley! Second and third decks, load up!" Longshot drew his cutlass out. An eight-pointed star adorned the basket of the hilt. "First deck, aim a warm welcoming volley! Right off their bow! Hold to fire!" 

Longshot mentally gauged the distance as the ship came closer into view. He raised his cutlass, waiting for the ship to get closer into range. Raising his arm higher, he pulled himself onto his toes and held that position for the longest of seconds. He waited for four more agonizingly long heartbeats before slicing down with his cutlass. "Fire!" 

The cannons roared almost simultaneously, peppering the space in front of the approaching ship. The pirate ship continued to race toward the _Nocenti_. 

"Second deck, aim! Blow that floating pile of tinder out of space!" 

"Captain!" The frantic cry came from Longshot's left. He half-turned to the crewman wildly pointing over the railing. "Ship coming from below!" 

Before Longshot could check over the railing, Quark spun the wheel all the way to the left, throwing many of the crew to their knees. Despite Quark's quick thinking, the ship bucked beneath their legs, sending everyone flat on their backs. The prow groaned in agony as the figurehead of the ramming ship scraped up the side. The _Nocenti_ flipped once, end over end, as the ship beneath them continued to plow upward. Longshot grabbed the base of a nearby mast as the artificial gravity strained to keep up with the _Nocenti_'s revolution. 

Longshot heard a crewman scream as he lost his grip and tumbled away from the ship. The screams for help got louder as the man drew closer to the periphery of the environmental bubble. As the crewman passed out of the bubble, his screams died abruptly. The crewman spun away to near instantaneous death. 

When the _Nocent_i had stopped turning, Longshot quickly scrambled to his feet and pulled the wheellock pistol out of his belt. His cutlass had spun out into space with the now dead crewman. The ship Kragar had spotted adjusted its course to come alongside the _Nocenti_ at the ship's new position. 

"Second deck, aim and fire! Third deck, aim and fire! Upper deck, prepare for boarding!" Longshot rattled off commands as he retreated toward the helm. 

His crew quickly began to recover, but not quick enough. The ship that had rammed them from below turned a tight arc. The boarding parties on that ship rushed to the side of ship, calling out taunts that fell mute as the two environmental bubbles had yet to merge again. Longshot glanced at that ships colors. Six bones fanned out from a dog skull. The flag of Mojo's own buccaneer Spiral. Longshot snarled. He fired an ineffective shot at the ship. 

"Here they come, men!" 

* * *

The gentle creak of a moving ship gently caressed Longshot back to the realm of the conscious. Gentle creaking, not the reverberation of cannonfire, not the sound of pitched battle, not the clamor of a victory celebration. _Ugh. Did we win?_ , he thought blearily. The burning pains across his shoulders pushed away the dregs of unconsciousness. The throbbing pain on the back of his head clued him in on how victorious he had been. He moved his feet slightly but felt no floor beneath them. He did feel the cold manacles snapped tight around his wrists and arms. _Unless the boys picked up weird victory celebration techniques at the last port we put into, I don't think we won . . . . _

Outside of his own bodily grumbles of pain, he heard a faint rustling of paper. Forcing his eyes open, he brought his head up to look around a dim cabin. Standing across from him was a familiar white-haired woman. Longshot stifled the roil of disgust in his stomach. The woman was casually looking through a pile of star charts. Near one of her elbows, a small lamp threw out a faint circle of light. Leaning over her massive mahogany desk, she rested her chin on a fist while her other five hands shuffled through the charts. She looked like a spider hovering over her web. 

"Spiral." It was supposed to sound like a low growl of defiance from Longshot's lips; it came out a dry groan rasping over even drier lips. He scowled at his own performance. _Ugh, how long have I been hanging here? I sound like a banshee with a lisp. _

Spiral looked up from the charts, a predatory smile creasing her lips. She straightened up and eyed him thoughtfully. 'Welcome to my home,' said the spider to the fly. "Captain Longshot," she purred. "Welcome back to the land of the living." 

Longshot ran an equally dry tongue over his lips. "M-my ship," he croaked. 

"Is now being plundered for all it's worth. The _Nocenti_ was a good ship, but it was no match for two of Lord Mojo's finest warships. Especially weighted down with the bloated bag's own gold." She crossed around her desk with a deadly, sinuous grace to her movement. She stalked forward, eyes appraising him like a side of meat. Spiral had been hunting him for so long that now she wanted to savor the capture. No, not wanted, she decided. Needed. 

Stifling the unpleasant feeling creeping up between his shoulderblades, he inquired on his crew. He hoped he wasn't the last one left. He had no desire to be in that lonely of a situation. 

"They are no longer your concern, slave," Spiral whispered huskily as she drew closer, resting two of her hands on his slim hips as the other pairs roamed above and below. Longshot shifted uncomfortable against the manacles. She leaned forward, her hot breath curling around his neck. She loved to see him squirm like this. "But for curiosity's sake, those who survived are now in the capable hands of my business associate." 

Longshot's eyes narrowed. She had to mean the bastard flying his lover's flag. 

"After his crew's losses are evened out, those who are left over will be tied to the mast and burned with the _Nocenti_. It's only good for kindling anyway." 

Longshot growled. 

"Oh, you tease." Spiral floated up from the floor, magic tingling off her hands onto his skin. She leaned forward to nip at her prisoner's neck. "Mmm. Been too long since I've had my hands on you." 

She stopped nibbling on his neck when someone began pounding on the door to her cabin. Longshot felt a slight sense of relief as she pulled away and frowned. She glared at the door, and the knocking stopped after a burst of loud crackling. She could almost smell the sizzled flesh. Smiling to herself, she wrapped her arms back around Longshot's body. "Now where was I?" 

One of her hands on his hip slipped lower. Longshot bit his tongue from crying out in disgust. 

Her smile faded to a snarl when the pounding began anew on her door. She pulled away from her prisoner and settled her feet back on the ground. The pounding did not stop. 

"Leave us be!" She snapped. Was it too much to want to be left alone to play with her new toy? 

The pounding stopped. "I'd sooner leave you be if you will just finish the terms of our agreement." The door muffled the voice, but it held a hint of exasperation. 

Spiral scowled at the door. She resolved then and there to never work with the passionless bounty hunter again. He had no qualms about breaking up a deliciously romantic moment. "Come then," she growled. 

The door handle snapped down and the door flung itself inward. Warm lantern light flooded through the doorway around a tall figure. The shadow stepped into the cabin, draped in a dark blue cloak that occasionally glinted. Longshot slowly realized he was wearing an alloy cloak, the best defense against a sword through the back. The material was as light as silk, but as strong as tempered steel. It was also ungodly expensive for a square centimeter let alone an entire cloak. 

The man stood slightly hunched over, his right hand clutched to his chest. The skin around his knuckles was blackened. 

Spiral's eyes narrowed. "Bare your arms," she hissed. 

The shadow quietly brought both hands out from his cloak. Coppery hands slowly opened with the palm up. "Happy?" 

"Lose the cloak," she commanded. 

He sighed and unclasped the cloak. It fell into a puddle around the man's feet. 

"Now, shut the door behind you and we can get this deal over with." 

Longshot couldn't see much of the shadowed man as he turned his back to the manacled captain. The man was tall, slightly taller than Longshot if he had actually had his feet on the ground. He wore a simple pair of pants and that was it. No shirt, no boots, and nothing to hold back his dark hair. The man grabbed the door by its handle and swung it shut. 

"Now, on the matter of my payment," the shadowed figure began as he turned back to face Spiral. 

Longshot squinted through the dimness. That voice was hauntingly familiar. 

"Lord Mojo has already paid you quite well," Spiral broke in. "One of the finest ships in his fleets is not good enough?" 

"It's enough, but it's not what I'm after." 

_It can't be,_ Longshot thought in disbelief. _He's dead. _

"Fine. As payment for a job well done in helping to capture the wanted criminal Captain Longshot, you may have the _Nocenti_." 

The man snorted. "Not much of a reward if you're going to burn it." 

"Then just leave me enough of the plunder to pay off my crew and the rest is yours." 

Longshot saw the man's fists tighten powerlessly at his sides. That was not what he had been looking to get. What more could he have been looking for? 

Spiral couldn't help but leer at her prisoner. "I have Captain Longshot. That's all I need." 

The stranger nodded curtly. "Very well. My crew and I will be out of your hair within the day." 

He stooped over and gathered his cloak from around his feet. Longshot watched some of the long hair shift off the man's shoulder to reveal a small tattoo of an eight-pointed star. It was hiding on the man's left shoulderblade. Longshot stared in disbelief as his breath left him. _It can't be. _

The man straightened up, black locks shifting back into place. "A glass of wine later? To seal the deal." 

Longshot felt something inside shatter to pieces and die. Not him. He wouldn't work with Mojo's minions. No. It couldn't be. Every fiber of Longshot swore this was a bad dream. It was a nightmare that had started two years ago. He just needed to wake up. 

Spiral looked thoughtful. The sooner she was permanently free of the bounty hunter's company, the better. She nodded at length. "I'll supply the glasses and the wine." 

The man pulled his cloak back over his shoulders and took his leave. 

* * *

Stephen Strange, first mate of the _Redhorse_, oversaw the transfer of crew and cargo to his ship. The wind ruffled his dark hair, threatening to whip the grey farther than his temples as Strange spotted his captain emerging from Spiral's captain's quarters. The captain looked around the mass of sailors moving things to and fro before spotting his first mate near the helm of the _Nocenti_. Strange continued to watch the crew's movement of goods as his captain walked the plank between ships. Quirking an eyebrow, Strange noted how his captain took three steps at a time up the stairwell leading to the helm. The captain hailed his first mate, raising a hand out of the folds of his cloak. 

"G'morning, Stephen." 

"How did you fare, Captain?" Strange began without preamble. "Negotiations go well?" 

The captain frowned. "Spiral is becoming more paranoid as the day wanes. She won't trust me until I show up naked on her doorstep." 

"From your tone of voice, it sounds like you're tempted to do just that." 

"Trust me, the thought has crossed my mind a time or two." The captain checked over his shoulder to the deck of Spiral's warship and scowled. "But her crew leaves something to be desired. Lookit them. Playing mumblypeg on a few of their unconscious companions." 

"Are you afraid you'll turn a head or two?" Strange ignored the spectacle below. It wasn't his crew so he had no concern. 

"No, I'm afraid of group butt-monkeying." 

Strange blinked. His captain had some of the more picturesque word choices Strange had ever known. . . . 

"Then the deal is done?" 

"Not quite. We now own the _Nocenti_ and the cargo inside her. The crew of the_ Nocenti_ is also our concern. The cargo should be split between the two ships so the _Nocenti_ isn't so weighted down. Leave enough of the cargo to _judiciously_ pay Spiral's crew for their hard work." 

Strange noted the emphasis and nodded. His captain had issued similar requests with other captains he had been less than thrilled with. There was supposed to be an unwritten, because most pirates are illiterate, code of honor. Inciting rebellions aboard other vessels through the spoils of victory was supposed to be a big faux pas. That was how Strange's captain had gotten Mojo's attention, by eliminating his competitors though their crews, corroding his own honor. The captain of the _Redhorse_ had captured several of the galaxy's most notorious captains by weakening them through their crews. 

"Captain, if you keep this strategy up, you will have fleets of your peers hunting for your head." 

The captain frowned. "I only do it to captains who work under a bloated grasp, openly or not. Besides, my own crew is content. I like to keep it that way. Give them their usual shares of the salvage. Then halve our crew and the _Nocenti's_ crew. Place a half of each on both ships. You will take control of the _Redhorse_ while I take the _Nocenti_ with the ram-headed warrior as my temporary first mate there." 

"The ram-headed first mate was wounded in the second boarding wave. He's below decks on the _Redhorse_, being tended to." 

"Have him patched up well enough then placed on the _Nocenti_ to heal." 

"Is that wise, sir? The crew may not be receptive to you taking over their ship. They may get emboldened by their perception of a hometurf, and they would have a leader to look up to." 

"It's only a temporary measure, Stephen. Until we're out of Mojo's borders." 

Strange nodded. His captain obviously already had some plan concocted; all Strange had to do was divine what he was going to do before any disasters struck. "Anything else?" 

His captain drew closer and dropped his voice to a more conspiratorial level. "I need a packet of iocane powder by this evening." 

Strange raised an eyebrow. "Iocane powder?" That was one of the more potent poisons available on the black market. Strange was lucky enough to study under an alchemist who had a side habit of making poisons. Iocane was tricky to make, even trickier to make into a powder. 

"Yes, diluted a bit. Spiral and I are sealing the deal with a glass of wine. I need it weak enough to put someone down for awhile but not dead." 

"Do you think it's wise to poison Mojo's favorite privateer?" 

"Wise? No. Necessary? Yes. Spiral is keeping what I came for, the most valuable treasure, to herself." 

"I suspect your motives are more selfish than you admit." 

"They _are_ selfish. Bad me. Give my share of the loot to the crews as well. However, people will benefit from this treasure, I assure you." The captain drew away. "The powder will be ready?" 

"I will have it done two hours after the ships are loaded." 

Patting Strange on the shoulder, the captain smiled faintly. "Good man." 

He turned away, heading down toward the captain's cabin aboard the _Nocenti_. Strange watched the retreating form struggle under an invisible, nearly unbearable weight. As the captain disappeared into the cabin, Strange sighed. 

"Dakota, I hope he is truly worth the effort." 

* * *

The galaxy's most renowned bounty hunter slipped quietly into the captain's quarters of the _Nocenti_, closing the door behind him to drown out the noise of his crew working. He tried to rationalize why he was doing this as he plunged himself into darkness. Dakota had come in here to size up his quarry. Yes, that had to be it. See what had changed in his two-year absence. 

He needed to fill the gaps. It was the mundane details that he needed to complete the picture: the change in the layout of the quarters, the positioning of the lighting, the little clues about the captain of the _Nocenti's_ new lover. Dakota grunted as he leaned against the door. Ok, so the last was a speculation, but one based quite logically. Captain Longshot had two years to get over Dakota. There was no reason to believe he didn't. Even less reason to believe he hadn't found a new love interest. Even in his own imagined reality, Dakota never kept Longshot's attention. Two years was just too long of a time to be gone. Especially two years of thinking Dakota only lived in the past tense. _I need a better imagination,_ he thought dourly. 

Dakota closed his eyes against the darkness, letting its familiar feel wrap around him. Two deep breaths filled his lungs with a familiar scent. He fought against a flood of nostalgia. There was no time for it. However, the recesses of memory wouldn't be denied. 

Gods, he dreamt of this room so many times. Dreams and memories had been all Dakota had for six months on that asteroid. All of his crew had died in that spectacular crash. Every last one of them torn to pieces. Hells, Dakota had died as well, but his body decided he needed to live. There was this blond rebel to live for and a healing factor to make sure he did. 

Running into an asteroid field to escape a fleet of Mojo's warships was Dakota's most uninspired tactical maneuver. He had paid the price for his stupidity dearly. All of his closest comrades were dead. He had six months of living on the Purgatory for an asteroid as atonement. Atonement for overestimating his own luck. He'd thought some of Longshot's luck had rubbed off on him. _Sometimes in the literal sense,_ he thought with a smirk. They could have made it. They would have made it. If only Dakota's luck hadn't run out halfway through the asteroid field. Dakota's smirk faded. 

Two months went by with loneliness as a constant companion. There had been no other time in Dakota's life where he looked to the stars and hoped with all his might. Longshot would have found him. He would have swept down out of the sky and rescued his lover. He would have to. There was no one else. But . . . Dakota's hopes had been for naught. No daring rescue came. He would just have to live off the meager light provided by the stars. 

It took the third month for Dakota to shake himself out of his endlessly hopeful funk and try to live. His healing factor may have been keeping him alive, but just barely. He began to scrounge the wreckage of his ship. He found the generator for the environmental bubble, fire-building material, food, and drink. The fire stuffs, food, and drink he put to the side so he could ration it to himself; the generator he moved to a safer place on the asteroid: one less likely to collapse and destroy the fragile machinery. He then spent the days burying the dead. They had started stinking a long time back, but it was time to put them all to rest. With gags of revulsion mixed with sobs of regret, Dakota buried one hundred of the greatest men, or the pieces he could find of them, ever to sail through space. 

Barely living day to day, Dakota had plenty of time to think and dream. His memories were what held him together. Often next to embers that rippled with meager heat and dim light, he tried to generate his own warmth, thinking of better times. Better feelings. Like how angel-fine hair felt running through his fingers. Or how the sweat-wet tips of hair tickled his chest. Skin like soft leather sliding beneath his palms. 

Dakota shook himself out of his reverie. Reaching to his left, he hoped the small entryway lamp was still there. His fingertips brushed the bottom of a lantern. _Hmm._ The first change, he thought mechanically, memorizing the detail for later. Blindly fiddling with the lantern's knobs, the room lit up fully as Dakota stumbled around half-blind. 

"Ow. Ow. Ow!" He tried rubbing the flashing spots out from beneath his eyelids, wondering what the hell he was trying to prove by being here. 

He was never one for drawn out sentimentality, which had been Longshot's longest lament. Often, it looked like Dakota did not have a romantic bone in his body. Especially in public. Things were very cut and dry in front of other people. The reluctance to reveal romantic feelings came from the copious amounts of embarrassing fumbling he had done before; outward signs of affection were very difficult for him to perform. 

Longshot had been the first to see passed the outward indifference. He had claimed everything could be plainly seen by one good look in Dakota's eyes, which Longshot did quite frequently. Often these looks came before his soft lips brushed across Dakota's. More frequently, those looks came after such instances. Longshot loved to see the emotion roiling behind those brown eyes; especially those induced by a tease of a kiss. 

Dakota slapped his hand over his face. "I have to stop daydreaming. This is getting me nowhere." He wiped his hand down his face in mild disgust. "And talking to myself is just making this even better. . . ." 

Looking around the cabin, the bounty hunter was surprised by how little things had changed and the decided lack of new lover accommodations. It was a room that obviously held only one occupant. Walking over to the third wall panel on the right, he rapped his knuckles on it. The hollow sound reverberated for a moment. Feeling around the edge of the panel, Dakota's fingers searched for the catch. Finding it just past his hip, he yanked the secret door open. Behind the door, things had not changed as much as they hadn't changed in the captain's quarters. 

An unused hammock was strung cattycorner in the closet-like room. There was also a small footlocker that, upon closer inspection, held nothing but a thick coating of dust. Dakota smiled as his stepped out of the secret room. "Perfect." 

He quietly shut the door, making sure to remember where the latch was. Glancing over his shoulder, he spotted a bed near a bank of windows. He let his mind wander one last time. Brief memories of entwined legs, rustling sheets, and soft whispers lingered for a breath or two. Dakota smiled to himself as he grabbed the handle to the door. He paused and took his hand off the door to lean over and snuff out the lantern. As the darkness descended, he hid his smile, opened the door, and walked out of the cabin. 

* * *

Longshot hung limply against the wall. Hours of her incessant pawing had left him drained. Building up walls of indifference had been hard, especially considering where her hands always dipped. It was like she had experience with him, knew exactly where to touch him to get a reaction. Longshot could not remember ever meeting Spiral outside of combat, where she would have had the chance to learn those touches. 

It had been nearly impossible to not let his body betray him. Her hands were trying their best to coax _something_ out of him. All Longshot had to keep his body from rising to the occasion was dwell on the fresh memory of his lover's betrayal. 

_How could he? How could Dakota side with Mojo after everything we had been through,_ Longshot thought bitterly. He let out a sigh of disbelief. _Even after I shared my life with him. Or at least as much of my life as I could remember. _

"What's the matter, _lover_? Finally ready for my touch?" Spiral sounded slightly hopeful, like she wanted some of her attention to be paid back to her. Why? They were enemies and had always been to Longshot's recollection. Though his mind could quite tell if she meant the groping or the angered slaps that followed because he would be so infuriatingly unresponsive. 

Longshot just glowered as Spiral rose from behind her desk. She began slinking around the corner of the desk, hips grinding out a sensuous rhythm. 

"Maybe we'll finally get somewh-" 

In a fit of déjà vu, loud knocking interrupted her once more. Spiral squinted menacingly at the door. The knocking continued at a steady pace. 

"Come," she snapped after another five seconds of pounding. 

Dakota swept in, the edge of his cloak swaying with the dramatic movement. Spiral tried very hard not to roll her eyes. He was wearing the same outfit as before. Before the six-armed captain could make any comment, he whipped the cloak off with a flourish and bumped the door shut with his heel. Gathering up his voluminous cloak, he glanced around for a suitable coathook. Finding none, he draped his cloak over Longshot's head. 

"Hey!" 

He doesn't need to see this, Dakota thought with a nod. "Ready to end our partnership?" 

Spiral eyed the bounty hunter. He seemed too happy. Never, to her recollection, had he ever looked happy in her presence. "I'm more than ready. You, on the other hand, seem ecstatic." 

"Don't take this wrong, m'dear, but I'm glad to get rid of the dead weight of your crew. Are you sure they know the fore from the aft? Or even where the poopdeck is?" 

Spiral growled as Longshot unsuccessfully tried to cover a snicker with a coughing fit. She gestured sharply to a seat while her other hands snagged a brown glass bottle and two silver goblets off her desktop. 

Dakota flopped into the indicated chair and casually propped his bare feet on Spiral's desk. He quirked an eyebrow as she slammed down the goblets. He smirked when she tore the cork out of the bottle with her teeth. "My, one would think you're quite eager to be rid of me as well." 

The female captain began to hastily pour the drinks. "The sooner you're out of my hair, the better. Who knows what the fekt Mojo was thinking when he hired you. I could have handled this on my own." 

Dakota glanced over at Longshot, who had forgone the earlier amusement and was now desperately trying to remove the cloak from over his head. If the blond captain hadn't had his arms manacled to the wall, he may have had a chance. As it was, all Longshot was able to do was aggravated himself. Dakota felt a small twinge of regret for putting him in that situation; however, he quickly resolved to make it up fully afterwards. With his inner turmoil stifled, he turned his attention back to Spiral. 

Putting his smirk back in place, Dakota leaned further back in his chair. "You just want me out of here to break in your new toy." 

Longshot suddenly stopped struggling with the cloak and stayed still. 

_Please forgive me, love. I have to do this. _

Spiral shoved a goblet at Dakota, splashing some of the wine onto his lap. "Drink and begone." 

The bounty hunter took the offered beverage and looked down at his pants. "If you were a fairer wench, I'd have you lick this clean." 

Spiral snorted at his bravado. "In your dreams, bitplayer." She raised her glass for a quick toast. "Here's to the end. May it get here soon." 

"Wait. Wait." Dakota dug a packet out from the waistband of his pants. He carefully tore the corner off and poured a bit of powder into his own drink. Carefully sloshing his drink around the goblet to look like he was dissolving the powder faster, he smiled up at Mojo's favorite captain. "Now. Whenever you're ready." 

Spiral's eyes narrowed. "What is that?" 

"What's what?" 

"What did you put in your drink?" 

"Why should you care? It's _my_ drink. Buuuut, if you are _that_ curious, it's the Universal Antidote. I trust you about as much as you trust me." 

"Universal Anti-how'd _you_ get your hands on that? It's more rare than a slim joint on Mojo's body." 

"Travel outside of Mojo's space or hunt captain's who have, Spiral. There are lots of things to be found that can never be found in this little backwater system." Dakota took a sip of his drink. 

Longshot abruptly began to violently fight against his manacles and the cloak. There was no Universal Antidote. It was a joke that began between Dakota and himself, only to eventually take on mythical proportions. The only coherent thought to surface in Longshot's brain was that Dakota was trying to poison himself for atonement. It wasn't logical, but it was the conclusion both of his hearts jumped to. 

Dakota hooked a thumb at the struggling captive, trying his hardest to act cool and collected. "Is he always like that?" 

"No. Usually he's quite sedate." Spiral looked thoughtful then began leering. "Would you mind staying for a little while?" 

"Um, no. Watching you get off on some poor soul's struggles aren't my thing." _Especially this particular poor soul. If you touch him in any way in front of me, Spiral, I'll gut you here and now. _

Longshot fought harder. Spiral frowned. He was going to hurt himself if this kept up. It was not as much fun if he hurt himself; hurting him was _her_ job . . . . 

Setting her goblet down, she quickly crossed over to the wall to check on her prisoner. 

Dakota got up from his chair, faking his intentions as best as he could. "Need some help with that?" 

Spiral waved him away. "I have it under control." 

"If you say so." While Spiral's back was turned, Dakota quickly poured half of the packet into her drink. The powder dissolved near instantaneously. 

Her right cross stopped Longshot's thrashing. Dakota fought the urge to smash the back of her skull in with his goblet. Instead he opted to put the packet back into the small pocket in his waistband and sit back down. 

Spiral turned back around to see Dakota lounging once again with his feet on her desk. She looked him over carefully. 

He raised his glass. "You ready to end this or what?" 

* * *

Consciousness crept back to Longshot with a faint tink, a muffled "you bastard," and a loud thud. He let out a low groan as his jaw began to throb at a lively pace. Opening his eyes, he found things were still dark. _Am I blind? Or is the cloak still over my head?_ Shifting a little bit, he felt the cloth rub against his skin. 

Outside of his cataloging his bodily pains, his ears picked up a faint shuffle of cloth. "Hmm. Decisions, decisions." 

The voice sounded familiar. His mind started putting pieces back together. Longshot was manacled to Spiral's wall; Dakota had shown up and thrown a cloak over his head then tried to poison himself. Wait. He couldn't have. Could he? Well, Dakota was supposed to be dead. Wasn't he? No. He definitely wasn't. He was supposed to be there for Longshot to cuddle up against on the long voyages. He wasn't supposed to be poisoning himself and probably dead on the floor. 

Longshot tested the manacles, and they still held as steadfastly as they ever did. Gritting his teeth, he began once more to fight against the manacles. 

"Would you _stop_ that?!? Geez, it's like you're trying to hurt yourself on purpose," Dakota said as he pulled the cloak off of his lover's head. "Now. You gonna behave?" 

Longshot looked at the quite healthy Dakota and fought back the tears. It was him. Za's Vid, after all those lonely nights in a bed made for two, there Dakota stood. He was more majestic than anything Longshot had envisioned, and the mournful bellowing of the galactic winds outside the window did not dispel him like a dreamy mist. 

All romantic notions quickly disappeared as Longshot spotted the prone Spiral behind Dakota, mind bubbling up with doubt. _How could he let me think he was dead? Is this the same man I loved? No, it can't be. He wouldn't have worked with Mojo's forces at all. _

"Stay still," Dakota said as he moved over to Spiral's body. "I'll have you free in a moment." Frisking the unnaturally still captain, he frowned when he came up empty-handed. Glancing around the cabin, he scratched his chin. "Hmm." 

Moving around Spiral's desk, Dakota began to rifle through the drawers. He yanked them out and tossed the contents out. He pawed at the bottom of each drawer, looking for possible false bottoms. His fingers rapped against the smooth grain of wood, but the sound of hollowness evaded him. Kneeling down to check the last of the drawers, Dakota tried very hard to swallow his heart as it was blocking his airways, not letting him breathe. He weakly poured the drawer's contents on the floor. With a bit of hesitation, he tapped the bottom of the drawer. A smile slowly spread across his face as the hollow thunk echoed slightly. 

Dakota began to break the drawer apart when he couldn't find the catch to the false bottom right away. He tried to keep the destruction as quiet as possible but only succeeded in giving himself splinters. When none of Spiral's crew came to investigate, Dakota had the feeling that loud noises coming out of Spiral's quarters were a common occurrence. _Heh. Lucky me. _

"Dakota?" Longshot had decided to venture forth when his lover had quieted down. 

"Hmm?" Dakota shoveled through the drawer debris until his fingers ran across the tepid bite of metal. 

"I-I'm glad you came for me." 

The dark-haired man rose triumphantly from behind the desk, brandishing the key with no small amount of triumph. Longshot tried to focus on him but increasingly found that hard to do. The blond captain did not worry about it more when he suddenly found Dakota right next to him, removing the manacles at Longshot's ankles. Wrapping an arm around his waist, Dakota supported the light-boned man as he began to unlock the manacles around the captain's arms. 

"Why wouldn't I? You know I have a thing for handsome blondes in distress." Dakota was so close that each word beat a light cadence against the thin fabric of Longshot's shirt. Longshot closed his eyes and tried to forget the manacles pinning him to the wall, but he failed because his arms wanted so badly to move away from the wall to wrap around Dakota's neck. 

"Would that explain your first mate?" As soon as the words left his lips, Longshot wanted to grab them back. This wasn't the time to bring those up. He needed to be saved, even if the man saving him had associated with Spiral and put him into this situation in the first place . . . 

Longshot bit his lower lip. One heart told him to get free and just hold onto Dakota while the other told him to get free and get as far away as he could. Heartbreak walked a step behind the bounty hunter. It was only a matter of time. 

Dakota, for his part, took a moment to realize Longshot wasn't referring to Stephen. The slender captain had never met Stephen to Dakota's knowledge. Longshot was referring to his old first mate. The one who had died on that asteroid. Dakota frowned. "Lucky, this isn't the time or the place." 

As one set of manacles along an arm came free after a few minutes of strained quietness, Longshot found his own body leaden, and he did not have the strength to hold himself up. He sank down into Dakota's arms. 

"Easy there. I have you," Dakota said as he tightened his grip around Longshot while working to get the last manacles unlocked. As the bounty hunter fiddled the locks open with his free hand, he felt Longshot lean heavily against him. The dark-haired man noted that his lover felt warmer to the touch than he remembered. His mind hiccuped at the thought of Longshot as his lover still. Dakota was nowhere near sure that the blond captain still thought of him as his lover. 

Longshot slid his free arm across the back of Dakota's broad shoulders while the other remained manacled to the wall. His head started to feel too heavy to hold up, and the room started to spin slowly in front of his eyes. 

"Dakota . . . I . . . don't feel so good," he said as he rested his head on the bounty hunter's shoulder. Dakota's worried reply was lost as Longshot's attention was drawn to the muscles working beneath his cheek. Dakota had always had well-toned muscles; Longshot always figured it was to make up for his lack of grace. He feverishly snickered to himself. 

"Longshot!" Dakota had finally managed to get the blond captain's arm free. His lover's rapidly increasing weakness was unsettling. 

"Whu?" 

"What's wrong? What doesn't feel good?" It had only been a day. He couldn't have been this badly off after only a day. Could he? Worry gnawed at the pit of Dakota's stomach. 

"The room . . . it's . . . spinning. And I feel so . . . heavy." 

Spiral must have done something to him. Dakota scowled as he wrapped his other arm around Longshot. He felt as light as ever. What could she have done to him? Physically, he looked untouched. Nothing outside of sweatstains and a few battle rips were on his shirt. So that left out torture, or at least physical torture. Dakota wasn't quite sure of Spiral's magical ability, but Stephen had warned him about the possibility. Apparently, Stephen had run across her handiwork somewhere along the line. 

Dakota bit his lip. This wasn't part of the plan. Longshot needed to be at least partially able-bodied to pull off being a cloaked, six-armed woman. The escape plan hinged on Longshot. 

"Lemme get you some water," the bounty hunter suggested. "Maybe that'll wash some of it out of your system for a little bit." 

Looking around, Dakota spotted a water bucket down, near the wall where Longshot had been manacled. The bucket had come complete with a ladle. Dakota's scowl turned into a snarl when he realized it was close enough for Spiral to taunt her prisoner. 

With the care of one handling the most delicate porcelain, Dakota carried Longshot over and settled him down into Spiral's high-backed chair. Making sure his lover wouldn't slump to the floor, the bounty bunter began to back away. Before he had totally drawn away, he tenderly brushed his fingertips across Longshot's cheek, just to feel that skin underneath his hands. It was kind of selfish, but as things were beginning to look, it may be all he managed to do before hell blazed across his shoulders. 

Scrambling over to the bucket, Dakota pulled out a ladle full of water and took a sip. There was no point in giving it to Longshot if the water was poisoned; Dakota wouldn't put it past Spiral to have the water poisoned. The ladle made a big splash as the bounty hunter threw it back into the bucket with disgust, splattering some of the poisoned liquid on the floor. There was a familiar aftertaste that had at one time, in a mass quantity in his grog, laid Dakota up for two days with his healing factor working double time. 

He sighed. "This isn't working. Gods," Dakota's face dropped into his hands, "what am I doing? My plans were always half-baked." 

"N-noh," Longshot spoke up. "They were . . . were always . . ." Longshot paused and screwed his eyes shut as a wave of nausea attacked his senses. " . . . good." 

Dakota pushed his hands up, running them through his hair. "Lucky, how can I get you out of here?" 

"Practice?" Longshot ventured weakly. 

Dakota snorted with a little amusement. "I wish, but we only have one shot with this." The silence dragged out uneasily for a moment. "Guess I'll just have to fight my way out of here with you draped over my shoulder." 

"you'd like that too much," Longshot breathed with as big of a smile as he could manage. The corners of his lips turned up a little, but that was as far as they moved. His forehead shined a little with the sheen of sweat. His blue eyes were no longer so clear as they clouded over with sickness. 

_He's getting worse,_ Dakota thought with a puff of panic. "Ok, time to get you-" 

He was interrupted by light knocking on the door. 

The bounty hunter froze. The knocking came again, playing a dreadful rhythm down Dakota's spine. Swallowing air around the heart in his throat, he grabbed the edge of the bucket. It would become a good makeshift weapon in a pinch. The water would add a good amount of weight to any blows. 

"Begging the captains' pardons," came the muffled voice through the door, "but the _Nocenti_ and the _Redhorse_ are ready to shove off." 

"Stephen?" It had sounded like his first mate. 

"Aye, sir." 

"Come in, Stephen. Quickly." 

"Sir?" 

"Uh . . . the wine's nearly gone, Stephen. Best come and get some of the captain's wine before it's gone." 

Dakota realized he should have locked the door when his first mate just walked right in. Leaping forward, the bounty hunter hastily ushered Stephen in and slammed the door behind him. 

"Subtle, if I do say so, sir." 

"Shut up, Stephen. I have a problem." 

"Obviously." 

"Huh? What do you mean, Stephen?" 

"You're using my name every chance you get." 

"I am not! I have no idea what you're talking about, Ste-Ok. I get your point." 

"Now, what's your problem?" 

Dakota gestured at Longshot. "Something's wrong with him. He's getting sicker by the moment." 

Stephen stepped over to the blond captain and crouched down next to him. "Hmm." 

The first mate began the gently trace a pattern over Longshot's chest. "This isn't good. I can still feel the lines of magic. Spiral cast . . . a life-binding spell . . . from what I can tell. Yes, a life-binding spell. The symbols are so distinct." 

Dakota's brow furrowed. "A life-binding spell?" 

Stephen looked up at his captain. "Yes, she bound his life-force to her own. She obviously didn't want to lose him. Subsequently, the iocane powder you gave her is affecting him." 

"Then I . . . I poisoned him?" Dakota reached out to the wall to steady himself. What had he done? 

"Be glad you had me create a diluted batch. It would have been fatal for him otherwise." Stephen sounded so calm. Of course, he had every reason to be calm. He hadn't just poisoned the love of his life, had he? "He will live, Dakota," Stephen reminded gently. 

"Can she track him through this binding?" Dakota asked, trying to get back to a problem that led to less self-flogging. _Can we move him to safety? Or at least a place where I can apologize profusely._

Stephen nodded. "She could." 

Dakota cursed enough to make any ten space-grizzled sailors proud. "Can you break it? The binding?" 

"It would snuff out both life essences if I tried." 

"leave me, here," Longshot said quietly. "she'll leave you alone if she has still has me." 

"I can't leave you here," Dakota snapped. "I didn't live through two years of hell to _give up_! Stephen, is there a way you can keep her from tracking him?" 

Stephen scratched his goatee contemplatively. "It's possible. A quick obscucation spell would mix up her signals enough. But I can't do it here. I'd need to do it in my quarters, where I have all my supplies." 

"Ok," Dakota nodded. "How do we get him there?" 

"I could teleport him. It's simple enough. I'm fairly familiar with my own quarters," he said dryly. 

"Us, you mean." 

"No, sir. I mean him. We need to walk out that door. You need to go over to the _Nocenti_ and I to the _Redhorse_ not to arouse suspicions." 

"But-" 

"Dakota, this will be draining for me. I'm only doing this because I see how much you care for him. I have never, in all my time sailing with you, seen you look at anything like you do him. I will take him to the captain's quarters on the _Nocenti_ after he has stabilized enough to survive the teleportation and I have pulled my reserves back together. In the meantime, captain, I suggest you do something with Spiral." 

Dakota nodded mutely and backed away as Stephen began to twist magic to his will through ancient words and antiquated gesture. Looking down at Spiral, Dakota sneered. _Trash like this should be burned._ Glancing at the wall where Longshot had been manacled, the bounty hunter got an idea. Grabbing one of her top arms and the bottom arm on the other side, he tugged her viciously toward the wall. When she woke up, Dakota was going to make sure she would be in a painful position. 

* * *

He had seen the colors dancing before. It had been above the cliffs of Caxton Coast on Greymalkin III when the dancing panorama of colors had caught his attention. They had moved against the sky, daring the spitfires to come down. He had paid them attention until somebody near him moved, drawing his attention from the glorious site above him to the naked one next to him. 

The colors in front of him now were like those that had captured his attention momentarily. However, this time, there was no one near to break the spell these colors cast. They swirled and eddied in majestic spirals. They swayed in rhythm to some beat he could feel pulsing under his skin. As the beat sped up, something moved from within the cloud of colors. Whatever was in the colors was moving in-between the red and the green. It slipped into the swirling red and popped out the other side into the rolling blue. The blue flared, outlining the shape of a man. 

Longshot moved unsteadily toward the man moving through the colors, chains rattling with each step. The man started jogging toward Longshot, waving with a cheery air against the blue background. Pushing his legs harder, Longshot tried to answer the quiet, familiar summons. The chains clanked dully as they reached their limits. Longshot hit the floor as his feet were pulled out from under him. The near silence was broken when the man standing in the riotous colors laughed. The laughter was deep and rolled with the warmth over the distance. 

The colors rolled forward as the man started to pull ahead of them, snapping at his heels. As the man drew closer, Longshot could make out more of the details. The man was tall, possibly a bit taller than Longshot himself. His long, dark hair was gathered behind his neck. A singular, long plait hung next to his angular face, ending with a small, red ribbon. His broad shoulders leaned back as the man slowed down to a more civilized walk. A half smile played on his lips. 

"Dakota." The name became lost on Longshot's lips as he reached out a hand, trying to draw closer. His hand shook slightly as a way of pleading for Dakota to speed back up. Dakota's smile enlarged and he began to speed up once again. The colors stopped moving. They began to furiously converge, congealing into a dark column. Dakota continued forward, unaware. Longshot tried to find his voice to shout a warning. All he managed was a worried squeak. 

Dakota remained oblivious, covering ground quickly with large, loping strides. The column started forward, growing six tentacles as it began a distance-eating pace. Longshot shouted something incoherent and pointed frantically to the column behind his lover. Dakota slowed down to a stop, looking confused. The tentacles shortened and formed into arms. Longshot fought against the chains around his ankles. Dakota slowly began to turn around. The arms draw back. Three blades appeared in three pairs of hands. The bounty hunter's eyes widened at the silvery streaks descending on him. Longshot yanked harder on the chains. 

"_NO!_" 

Three swords plunged forward. The dark-haired man staggered backward with a slight gurgle. With the clarity of a man about to lose everything, Longshot watched the man he loved sway slightly. Blade tips dripped crimson. Horror closing his throat on him, Longshot stared as Dakota sank to his knees. Dakota gurgled Longshot's name. Peels of feminine laughter ripped from the armed column. 

Longshot woke screaming. He sat straight up in bed, his screams cleaving the air with anguish. Fingers curling into the silken sheets, his body grew rigid, straining under two hearts pounding wildly. His ears were deaf to the chair clattering to the floor next to the bed. His body did not feel the shift in the mattress as a greater weight sat down next to him. 

When his voice cut out on him, Longshot gasped for breath, gulping in large amounts of air. Tears drenched his cheeks as his chest heaved. Two quiet arms slid around him from behind. Knowing four more were coming to take his soul, he struggled against them. A bit-off curse slid under the dregs of his dream-induced panic as he swung his elbow back. The arms didn't let go. They gentle pulled him closer to a warm body. 

"Longshot, it's me. Please, calm down," Dakota pleaded quietly. He held the smaller man close, feeling each shiver as if it were his own. 

The blond captain struggled a bit more, but his will to fight was shrinking by the second. 

"Lucky," Dakota whispered. He tried his pet name for the captain. Something nobody else called him except as an adjective before his name. The bounty hunter's breath slid across his lover's neck, carrying warmth along with comfort. Longshot sagged against him, tears still flowing down his cheeks. Dakota gently nuzzled his neck and placed a small kiss on the bare shoulder. "I'm here, love." 

* * *

Dakota sat at the desk and idly flipped through star charts. Waiting for Longshot to wake again was rather boring. After calming his lover down and getting back to some semblance of a peaceful sleep, Dakota had taken leave of the captain's quarters to attend to ship's business. First, he checked on Mr. Quark, who was feeling better if the threats of bodily harm were to be believed. Then, Dakota checked the ship over. The repairs that Stephen had supervised seemed to be holding well. Finally, before retiring back to the captain's quarters, he assured the crew that they would have their comrades and captain back once the _Nocenti_ had cleared Mojo's space. Returning to the cabin, he still found Longshot sleeping soundly in bed. 

Rather than wake him up, Dakota had begun to go through the star charts. He needed to be ready if Spiral smelled the ruse. She was supposed to be chasing the _Redhorse_ across the galaxy. However, if she got wise, which Dakota doubted very highly, she may come hunting the _Nocenti_. With various escape routes planned out, he now had nothing to do until Longshot woke up. 

Well, nothing other than ponder how bad his lover was going to take him working with Spiral. Dakota had seen no other way once he knew how close Spiral had been to capturing Longshot for herself. Getting his reputation back was easy; getting in Spiral's good graces to go along on the ride to bring down the rebel captain was another thing. Fate was kind at least once in his life, even if things didn't go anything like what Dakota planned. Especially not with finding the love of his life bound mystically to a madwoman. 

Eyeing the walls, Dakota wondered if the magic wards Stephen set up were still working. The wards were supposed to help completely hide Longshot from any tracking Spiral could think of sending his way, but the wards had only been set up in the captain's cabin because of time constraints. Stephen had managed to at least dampen the life-binding spell somewhat, which in itself took precious time, but more precautions had been warranted. If the bounty hunter had been the least bit magically attuned, he might have known if the wards were still up or not. As it was, he could just sit and stare at the wooden walls and wonder. 

The soft shuffling of cloth behind him made Dakota sit up a little straighter. Glancing at the small mirror that was at the upper corner of the desk, he caught the reflection of Longshot sitting up in bed. Dakota swiveled around in the chair. "Well, g'evenin', sleepyhead. Back to the land of the living?" 

Longshot stretched and yawned, keeping a wary eye on the man sitting in his chair. He remembered his earlier nightmare too vividly. He wanted to run over there and squeeze Dakota for all he was worth, but that was overridden by a sense of caution. Dakota had been working with Spiral. "Where am I?" 

Dakota quirked an eyebrow with a small smirk creasing his lips. "Don't recognize your own quarters?" 

Longshot blinked and looked around. It was his quarters, but he felt something inside of him doubt that the man sitting across from him was the man he had loved. Dakota would have never worked with any of Mojo's minions if he could help it. 

After a few minutes, Dakota's impatience got the better of him. "I tried to keep all the stuff in here when they were raiding the ship. Don't know if any of Spiral's crew got in here or not." Dakota shrugged, trying hard to be nonchalant. "If anything's missing, I'll get you a new one. How're you feeling?" 

"Betrayed." 

Dakota caught the flicker of anger in Longshot's eyes. The bounty hunter blinked then sank in his chair. That answered that question. "Oh." 

The silence drew out. Longshot openly looked Dakota up and down. When the scrutiny got too much for the bounty hunter, he got up from the chair. "Look, Lucky-" 

"Don't call me that," Longshot said flatly. "Who are you and what have you done with my Dakota?" 

"I _am_ your Dakota, or was once. I could still be . . . if you wanted," he replied a bit defensively. 

Longshot looked up into those haunted, brown eyes and let his hearts race again. It was him. Nobody else had eyes like those. Drawing his hopes back, Longshot noted his hearts could be reading things wrong. He carefully got up from the bed, holding the sheet around his waist. "I might. Prove you are who you say you are. " 

Dakota was caught a bit flat-footed. He had no idea what to do. Longshot's level gaze was giving him no help either. "Um, well . . . I have the tattoo, but I don't think you're looking for that. I could still show it to you anyway?" 

Longshot stood impassive. 

"Ok. Maybe not." Dakota cast about for something, anything he could use. "It's not a clue because you were nude in your own bed?" 

Longshot remained quiet. 

Dakota sighed. He wasn't winning. "Goddammit. You always force my hand." 

Taking two steps to cover the distance between the two of them, Dakota tilted Longshot's chin up ever so slightly and kissed him. Longshot stiffened in slight shock, but when the lips against his own felt so achingly familiar, he let go of the sheet around his waist and wrapped his arms around Dakota. 

When the two broke apart for a breath of air, Dakota smirked. "Satisfied?" 

Longshot leaned against him and lightly kissed his cheek. He delicately played with a lock of hair, enjoying the silky feel of it between his fingers and the earthy scent that came with being that close to Dakota. "With the kiss, yes. With being the only one naked, no." 

"I think we can remedy that," Dakota said as he started to shrug out of his vest. 

* * *

The incessant howl of the galactic winds outside the windows slowly nudged Longshot awake. He shivered and drew closer to the body curled against him. The wind sounded so cold, whistling past the windows, but unlike so many of the nights before, the wind wasn't keening in loneliness. Or at least Longshot didn't feel it was anymore. 

Snuggling against Dakota, Longshot kissed the nape of the dusky-skinned man's neck. Dakota mumbled something incoherent and gently pushed him away. Longshot grinned before gently kissing the sleep from his lover's eyes. 

"Nng. It's _too_ early. Go back to sleep," Dakota groaned softly. He squirmed slightly when Longshot began to deftly tickle his sides. "Knockitoff." 

"I don't want to," Longshot said sweetly. 

Dakota opened an eye blearily. "Mere mortals like myself need to sleep. I have no idea where you get the energy. You've had run of my body the past two days, lemme get some sleep." 

Longshot tenderly brushed a stray lock of hair off Dakota's high cheeks. "I guess I could." 

Dakota closed his eye again and snuggled back into the soft mattress. He found himself not quite able to fall back asleep as Longshot's hands kept straying over his body. "Lucky." 

"I said I _could_. I didn't say I _would_." 

Dakota opened his eye again and sighed. This was going to be a long trip. 

Not that he minded in the least bit. 

* * *

~fin 


End file.
